Maybe I give the impression that there isn’t a nook left in downtown Chicago I haven’t explored, but this is thoroughly untrue. City be big, you may have heard. Usually only one or two of my days on these winter trips are spent exploring on my own. The weather dictates the pattern: walks punctuated by shelter. There’s a train station lobby halfway between the Shedd Aquarium and Michigan Avenue that, on this trip, proves vital more than once for taking the sting out of my cheeks.

It’s a mix of pursued goals and fortunate finds, and I never hesitate to stop for a meal. A good one of those is rarely too far away. And I really believe the city has a way of rewarding the wanderers. How else could you explain the random gift on a snowy night of a puppet show riding up to you on a bicycle?:

Somehow I always end up walking. If it’s freezing or blazing, wet or green or gray; if I’m in downtown Chicago, I want to see what’s a little further down every street. I want to take it at a speed where I can see the age of every brick.

The spouts at Buckingham Fountain

I think some statues wait for the dramatic weather. In peace and sunshine they must feel so out of place.

The goose survived another Christmas. He must love America, where we all eat the turkeys.

Outside the Aquarium. We’ll go inside in a future post.

A mural in the underbelly of Steppenwolf

The Harold Washington Library downtown – I had to cheat a LOT to make this shot anything close to visible this near sunset without a tripod.

I keep returning to this spot with my camera year after year – still don’t know that I’ve taken a truly awesome shot from here; but I’m getting better.

Just outside Union Station, right before my train to the suburbs

The pictures can do most of the talking:


I loved this tissue-paper texture – capturing things like this correctly forces me to become a better photographer

There was a special annual indoor exhibit, too, which gave me a chance to put the ol’ tripod to work.

I try not to use my clumsy and harsh little pop-up flash – but every so often, it really does do the trick.

Turtle yoga

You learn something every day – me, I didn’t know a cactus could be this furry.

They had a sub-half-price offer for Six Flags Magic Mountain – the West Coast’s rollercoaster Mecca – and I had not paid my respects in far too long. So we started to plan a trip, and as we compared schedules it became obvious that the best time to do this was going to be Valentine’s Day Weekend. It’s the ideal time of year for a local to hit Six Flags – the summer weather up there is obscene, and the crowds even worse. A nice, temperate February weekend, without even Spring Break threatening the ride lines, drastically increased the likelihood of getting our money’s worth and avoiding heat stroke in one bang.

My plan was already to drive up to Santa Clarita on Saturday and get a hotel room, so as not to have to endure 90 miles of driving in the morning before we even reached the parking lot. And so – totally conveniently and naturally – a fabulous weekend getaway snapped into place on the calendar.

Before we checked into the hotel we detoured up the 14 Freeway to Vasquez Rocks – a place you’ve probably seen even though you didn’t know it. The jagged shapes formed by our San Andreas Fault have loomed in the background of countless films and TV shows. Perhaps most famously, it was the setting for Captain James T. Kirk’s mano-a-mano with the Gorn:

We spent about ninety minutes clambering up and down the rocks – tourists, dog-walkers, and horseback riders were going every which way. The whole park is only about three-square kilometers, and we tempered our exploration by remembering that we were going to need some strength left in our legs the next day. I’d love to come back closer to sunset, and see what the place looks like in the golden hours. Pictures are below the cut.

We checked into the Holiday Inn Express just at the foot of Magic Mountain, cleaned up and dressed for dinner. We went to a restaurant/pub called Mulligans, which was already decorated for Valentine’s Day but didn’t have the crowds or the menu markup that comes along with the day. She had the Shepherd’s Pie, and I had Filet Mignon, and we both got to appreciate that good Filet Mignon experience of having meat melt in your mouth. Dessert was fried ice cream, and we all but staggered back to the car, blissful.

We settled in for an early bedtime, and watched an absolutely amazingly effed-up sci-fi movie from the 70’s – A Boy and His Dog. Based on a novella by professional misanthrope Harlan Ellison, it stars a teenaged Don Johnson, wandering the post-apocalyptic desert with his telepathic dog, looking for canned food and rapeable women. Things proceed to get seriously strange from there, building up to an ending that is both evil and perfect. Whatever cult follows this movie, consider Roxie and I the two newest members.

Sunday started with the bounteous Holiday Inn Express breakfast, and then proceeded up the hill. What followed you will see in a separate entry.

What could make the day any more geektastic? I’ll tell you what – BOBA THE FETT, B*TCHEZ!

I have no ability to identify flora. Roxie, however, does, and informed me that the juniper was blossoming.

1) Silver Lake is chock full of The Pretty
2) I am nowhere near good enough in Photoshop to blend out places where the sky failed to merge seamlessly.

Torture your browser window behind the jump:

We’ll see if I manage to tell you any details, Jimmy. In the meantime, a lucky picture from Saturday:

All pictures copyright 2009 by Nicholas Thurkettle. All rights reserved.


A very fortuitous place for a random pot of flowers to be sitting.